Paths
by bheid
Summary: Young 'Tithonos' is just a young sociopathic assassin. But when he's made forcefully unemployed, The Force takes his soul and rapes it with a destiny. But which path will he choose, Dark or Light?this is set 200 years after the last movie.
1. Forceful unemployment

**Paths**

"Jedi!" a voice from outside the courtyard shouted. Jedi? I thought. I glanced to where the yell had come from, and sure enough, blaster shots were zooming into the sky. Either a guard had an appalling shot, or a light sabre had deflected the lethal rounds.

It was only a matter of time, really, until those Jedi tuned their attention to Agisthos. The Sith were vanquished, for now, and I bet those Jedi guardians had itchy blaster fingers because of the lack of evil to fight. Hence the raid on Agisthos. Agisthos was a crime lord on Tattonine; some suspected he was an idiot for being so; I mean, what the hell are you supposed to do, ambush Jawas?

Nevertheless, there were still the tell tale whooshes and zips that indicated a Jedi light sabre. I prayed to whichever deity was fashionable at the time that the Jedi wasn't dark. The dark ones are pretentious pricks who apparently blow planets up for fun, and aren't too good on having pity on mercs like me.

A man flew over the tall walls, obviously pushed with the force. He landed, painfully, causing his lungs to give their best impression of an empty vacuum. He coughed and sputtered for air, before attempting to flee. He stumbled, wheezing, for the other gate. A green blaster shot hit him in the back, burning away his top, and leaving seared, already cauterized black flesh. He dropped to his knees, another shot hit him in the back of the skull, burning away the brain instead of splattering it, but leaving about a third of the head missing. His tongue licked the dusty Tattonine plains as it hit the floor.

"Coward!" Agisthos shouted. He was in front of me with his back turned, as I was originally leaning on the building wall. I slid out of his view behind a corner. He was holding a blaster pistol in his hands, waving at his dead soldier, whom he had betrayed. "Kill the Jedi! He's only one man!" He looked over his shoulder, and I retracted my head to stay hidden. He turned his attention back to his men, who didn't know who to cower in fear of, him, or the Jedi.

The metal barrier keeping the men in, or the Jedi out, glowed red heat, and soon a blue sabre poked through. I thanked the god of atheists for small mercies.

The Jedi did his...her mandatory grand entrance, kicking down the gate, lightsabre held out in a mock phallic pose. She had brown hair that seemed impractical in its length: down her shoulders. She had normal Jedi robes, and despite being in battle, showed no anger. Or even enjoyment for that matter; just that tranquility that pisses me off so.

"Kill her!" No one moved a muscle. "Traitorous filth!" Agisthos moved his blaster from the Jedi, recognizing his downfall. He aimed it at one of his men instead, who was in the middle of putting his vibroblade down.

Zap! The Blaster fired! The Jedi threw her sabre, seemingly at the victim, but it took the green bolt and sent it back to Agisthos who had his jaw open in astonishment, amazement, admiration, something else beginning with a, and then his jaw separated from his body, which was left to slump onto the floor, lifeless. The sabre whooshed itself back into her obviously skilful hands. Don't see that everyday, even in my line of work.

"It's always regrettable to take a human life." She said, as if they gave awards at the academy for spouting the most Jedi-propaganda. No one had a reply that wasn't sarcastic, facetious, or a downright insult. Including myself. We all shut up instead.

The late Agisthos' men had already kicked their weapons towards her, they knew the drill, and the once corrupt police force marched in, probably pissed they weren't getting anymore dirty money. Luckily, they didn't notice me. I looked up and to the side, and saw the eight foot stone wall blocking my escape. Both exits were blocked by the victors.

Thankfully enough though, you don't survive long as an assassin if you don't have a lot of cunning to fall back on. And I happen to be as cunning as the former rebels, now republic. I took the small blade from my belt, and proceeded to cut a pound of flesh from myself. It bled like hell, enough to make one woozy if left unattended, but it didn't hurt. I concentrated on the task at hand, calling on myself for my own power within. The old anger rose as it always does when I do that, and I sank into my consciousness, coming back only when the knife scraped into the bone within my arm. I tore my once fine clothes into rags to make myself a true figure of pathos, and then buried the knife under the sand, which incidentally, had gathered a red hue.

I broke my self restraint, and the anger washed away, which also brought the pain running back. It ran so fast, it knocked me to me knees, and the air out of my lungs, which took the form of a scream of agony. My arms, where I had put the most damage, hurt worse than that one time my throat was almost slit.

If I was more coherent, that is, in less agony, I would have found their jump of fright from my scream vastly amusing. But alas, agony took precedence.

"Check over there!" the lady Jedi ordered.

A grumbling and overweight twi'lik did as he was told, holding his blaster rifle with his finger on the trigger, an obvious and blatant violation of safety laws. I'm always amazed of how much better my sight and observational skills are when in rage or extreme pain. I should know, really, being there so often.

"I know you..." the twi'lik started.

That guy! He did know me: I had lobbed a bomb at this one guy's residence, big explosion and everything, can't remember why, but it had paid lots. The twi'lik had pursed me and removed my mask. He had let me go when he recognized Agisthos' man.

But all bets were off now. I snarled silently, offering death, all the while keeping my facial expression the same. He backed off, shocked, somehow sensing my slight displeasure of seeing his face. The pain rushed in a new, I wasn't aware it had left, but it forced a convincing scream of agony anyway.

"There's a hostage over here!" the guy shouted. And to the Jedi: "Can you heal?"

I heard the Jedi running over to my position, lightsabre holstered for now. "Of course I can heal!" she said with unJedi-ly indignation. Oh god... I was going to get healed by a Padawan, or worse: an apprentice. She was no master. Again, if not for pain, I would have chuckled at how judgmental people were concerning Jedi. They have to be gods to appease people now.

The Jedi had blonde roots in her hair despite the brown, and the sabre had a inscription in an alien language I couldn't read. And in further testament to the power of suffering and memory: she had two brown moles on a parallel either side of her right hand's middle knuckle, no ring. But I did see a bracelet on her wrist, obscured by the robe.

The pain was fading, but the anger didn't rise. She was healing me quite expertly, giving evidence on the contrary to her assumed Padawan status. "Do you have a name?" she asked whilst she worked, not lifting her eyes.

I couldn't tell her my name! That would be a stupid, stupid, stupid to the power of stupid, mistake! I pretended to groan in pain as I thought of a name for myself. Anakin! No, he used to evil... in honour of my late employer, I am now Tithonos. "Tithonos." I said through unnecessarily clenched teeth, as the pain had gone.

"Strange name." she said, smiling too brightly, too closely, into my face.

"Screw you," I said, full of mirth, "what's your name?" I flexed my strong muscles, making sure she hadn't accidentally glued my arm up wrong.

She was apparently confused; I can do that to people. Especially people who are too happy and too close. "I'm Faia." she said.

"Thank you, Faia, for the heal and rescue. If I had credits, or indeed a place to live, there would be a reward for you." I lied, whilst getting to my feet with all the grace of a pregnant bantha. I discarded a piece of material that was blowing into my face, in the process ripping a hole in the arm of my shirt. I frowned at it.

"Tithonos, you don't have a place to stay?"

I hadn't, not now she'd killed my gracious homicidal employer. I tried to think of a lie. "they burnt it down." Actually, I had burnt it down, and it wasn't mine. I sighed, realising the stupidity of more elaborate lie: no food or water, and a clean police force too, ruling out a mugging career. I'd be dead in days in this climate, and Czerka Corp aren't sympathetic to ragged dressed vagrants. I'd be salvaged by the Jawas and my skull made into an ornamental mug.

She smiled in that friendly manner that annoyed me, and said: "Come back with me to the Jedi enclave on Osckira; they'll welcome you there." At my silent protests: " just until you get back onto your feet."

I realised I had no choice. "Ok."


	2. A releationship is faked

**Paths2**

The enclave in question was located on a pleasant pastoral planet with a collapsed economic infrastructure, Osckira, its name was. The Sith had been their normal cheery selves and bombed trade hubs, government buildings, and their whole damned military into a whole lot of non existence. It was just coming out of the recession that had been practically enforced by the Sith.

The transport ship landed with an exaggerated whoosh. I adjusted the gift clothes that had replaced my rags; too itchy; too bright yellow; too embarrassing to be caught wearing them.

All my credits, all my possessions, all my sentimentally valuable weapons, had been confiscated.

With my self-righteous host, the Jedi, I descended the metal ramp and onto the green grass. The air outside smelled of lack of humidity and despair, possibly the yellow jumper I wore. I could see the enclave of the Jedi in the distance; an unimposing thing. We headed towards it in silence.

Suddenly, and without any provocation on my part, Faia said: "So what do you do for work, Tithonos?"

"I answer and fulfil contracts set by private individuals or corporations." I had grown wary of her Jedi powers, and so tried not to blatantly lie as much to her. But it was still fun to do.

"Sounds exciting." She said, giving the confused look. Come now, Jedi were supposed to be wise.

"You'd be surprised how well people pay for a trouble shooter like me." Or a people shooter!

"Trouble shooting? Like what?" I suddenly had a sinking feeling I had revealed too much.

"Like reorganising mining expeditions, and organising and planing a colonisation attempt." smooth.

"Oh, you should talk to Master Wyndam; this place's like a failed colony at times. I'm sure he'd appreciate the help." ...And now I need to know about colonisation. Great. I had the feeling she knew I was lying, and was playing a sadistic game with me.

Wait! Master Wyndam? "There are Jedi masters here?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Two." That strange feeling you get when your house is burnt down, and your family killed, entered me.

"Oh." I said numbly.

"Why?" She pushed.

"No reason."

"There has to be a reason."

"No, really-" the enclave had sneaked up on me, and was now a white walled saviour in front of me. "well, we're here." I said, sighing inwardly. The inquisition would have to wait; I will not be burned in a stupid yellow jumper. And I also needed to brush up on colonisation...

Inside my temporary apartment, the walls oozed disgusting Jedi sanitation. It was spotless. There was a green fabric sofa with cushions, as well as a single bed, in the same room. It wasn't big. At least the coking utensils were on the other side of the same room. I'm not one to be ungrateful though, and so I made it my duty to get out of there as soon as possible, to help the Jedi with their space requirements, of course.

I changed out from the yellow jumper, to a pseudo stylish top that would make people mock me. The republic's public network system flicked to life, a two dimensional visual display unit in the corner, and I searched for my name, along with the codeword and planet of meeting. After a moment of oral commands to the machine, I found one, on Korriban, home planet of the Sith. Before that though, I had to scheme ways of escaping this place with my life. I slouched onto the green sofa and stared into nothing, fully into myself.

A buzzer came from my door, indicating a visitor, and disturbing my, also disturbing, lack of ideas.

I got to my feet, which were still thankfully clothed in my original boots. Although why desert specialised boots in grasslands is good nobody knows. They clumped their irrelevant way to the doorbell in spite of their existence crisis, and I let my visitor in. The door swished open to reveal Faia, her over-cheery nature gone.

"Hey, I thought I'd check in on how you're doing." Faia said. She was noticeably without a light sabre, though, so the fire hadn't yet been started.

"I'm good. Thanks."

"You're not really a contractor, are you?" abrupt, but to the point, I guess.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, but yes, I am." Feigning indignation at her accusation.

"It's my business. It's my business when the safety of the enclave is in jeopardy. Considering where I found you, and why you apparently have no reason to lie, you've obviously got something to hide.

What do you really do, Tithonos?"

"Fine. I'll tell you the truth," I lied, "you'll know why I lied to you, and why you can't tell the republic about me." I paused for theatric effect, "I work on classified military projects with governments outside the republic. Do you really think I go around and boast that to the good friends of the republic, the Jedi? No, I don't. Because if I did, I'd end up with a 'sabre poking through my chest." -_and that would hurt._ I finished the last line silently, for fear of bursting into laughter.

"What were you doing on Tattoine?" she demanded, obviously unconvinced, for now.

"Are you illiterate? Can't you read between the lines?" I demanded, putting that edge in my voice.

"I've previously told you my house was burnt down. Do you think it was empty? Do you think they burnt down a scuzzy Tattoine shack for shits and giggles?" Realisation of what my lie was insinuating crept towards her emotional core. Jedi indeed. Of course, being an assassin is never an easy thing to be, and emotional responses on demand is one of the talents I own. Both mine and theirs. Fake tears of anguish pooled in my eyes. "It was my family." I chocked out, holding back tears. "I paid them most of my salary, and they would leave them alone. That one time..." I openly sobbed pathetically now, turning my back to her to conserve 'dignity'.. "And they bombed the place. Then they captured, and tortured me. And you say your fucking republic is fair!" I put a bit of irrationality in to make it realistic, whilst still kept my back carefully turned.

She put her hand on my shoulder. This was it; to embrace her in fake friendship (normally to get access to, and kill another friend of theirs)? or to brush her off angrily and demand she get out (to be left alone)? I should have renamed myself Jacob.

I let the hand stay. She was easy on the eyes, and if one Jedi trusted me, the others would have a better, and quicker, time coming to their senses.

"I'm sorry." she said simply. "I'll leave you to yourself now." with that, she and her pretentious robes left.


	3. Contract negotiations

I skipped the meal that the Jedi were holding. Most probably, both the masters were attending, and they're no good for a guy like me. They'd sense my deception faster than you can say 'quadratic equations'. Instead, I decided to get myself to Korriban for that job. How I'd do that was up for debate, though, as I had no ship. Perhaps I'd ask a Jedi for a lift, claiming it was for job seeking purposes, which, ironically, it was.

A few hours passed, in which my stomach complained a whole lot, and I spent my time in the apartment, scheming about stuff; a hobby of mine.

Then the buzzer came from my door, so I got to my feet and walked to it. It swished open, revealing Faia again. Surely the lie hadn't fallen through already; it had to be for other purposes.

She had apparently showered in her leave of me, as her hair was still slightly damp, and I saw she had had Tattoine dust on her face, noticeable only in its absence. It made her brighter than before, or maybe it's because her mood was brighter.

"I just came around to apologise for what I did earlier; I should have sensed your loss straight away. There's no excuse for what I said." Touching and smirk worthy at the same time.

"You couldn't have known, and it would have been 'unwise' not to question me, especially in lieu of circumstances. Apology accepted." I gave her a reassuring half-smile.

"Thank you." she looked to her feet, and then to her right.

I changed the mood of the conversation, and stopped her escape, in the way only a master could, saying: "Hey, I was about to go to an employment related meeting on Korriban, do you know where a guy could seek transportation?"

She looked back to me with renewed attention span. "Since most of the people here are from here, there's no real need for public ships. I'll give you a ride later, if you want."

"Excellent. The interview's going to be initiated by me, so when'd you want to go?"

"I'm free now." she said with a frown. Most likely thinking, what military project worker initiates their own interviews? I need to stop slipping with her; it's her demeanour; she's too happy to be taken seriously, and me in my absent-mindedness of her Jedi status, take liberties in my persona's storyline. Damn happiness, perhaps I should crush it.

"Let's go, then." I said, without missing a beat.

The ship landed on Korriban with its normal over-emphasis on 'whoosh'. A Wookie could roll around in mud, and after standing near this thing landing, its fur would be spotless. People tell me I complain too much, but I don't believe them.

I stood on the descent ramp, feeling too self conscious, as per the shirt, for a man of my profession. I'll stand out like the Dark Lord of the Sith at a peace rally.

I stepped down from the ramp, turning around again when I heard, "Good luck!" from the ship.

I was tempted to ignore her, but the character demanded I didn't: "thanks!"

Walking the bleak corridors, I felt something strange. It was a lure and a demand at the same time, it said: come here, be with me. I obliged.

My self restraint unravelled at the ends; I broke into a crowd of people with lax hygiene habits, shoving my way through, with time becoming more insistent, more violent. The further I walked towards it, the more it wanted me. A man tripped over his shoes, and tumbled, with my shove. The harder it was to disobey, the less I wanted to.

I was all the way there then, at the very heart of my almost frenzied attraction. Which, strangely, was the same building I was wanted in. The door was for a cantina. Through it, I could see merry making and drinks for all, and what I assumed to be my new employer behind the bar.

I pushed the door with haste, only to discover it was a pull door. I pulled the door with haste, and stepped into the meeting place. The inside was smoky and noisy, rank. There was a Hutt in the corner, as is apparently mandatory. There were a few Rodians socialising at the bar, drinking whichever alcoholic substance was fashionable.

It was hardly a party, which was a shame, because I used to like parties. Before I'd found my calling, I used to make up some incredible persona, and convince everyone in the room it was me. Quite fun, really.

I walked confidently to the bartender, a large man who looked like he could snap a tree trunk in half with his hands, and leaned forward, ushering his attention to me.

He nodded to me, then walked to my direction. "What can I get you?" He asked when he had reached me.

"My name is Balnus" it was a former alias, "I have come to see Canaan."

He looked serious, and nodded an affirmation. "I'll go get him."

"No need." A man I had not noticed said. It was strange he was able to escape my attention, as another of my plentiful skills was in crowd observation. Only Jedi have been able to do that, thus far. He had a pale serious face that would look unnatural if it smiled, the look of man I would be most careful with; no games. "I heard Mr. Balnus enter. If you'll follow me, Mr. Balnus, we'll discuss business down the back."

No answer was necessary; he walked behind the bar and opened a door, leading to an alleyway. I took my hands from the counter on which I was leaning, and followed him with caution. His combat vest clung to his frame, its orange seemingly illuminated the space around it.

Inside the back room was a wood table, and two chairs facing each other at either end, the kind of setup an interrogation room would have. I was quite used to such meetings.

"Take a seat." He commanded. I took a seat. He sat on the other end. "What's your real name?" He asked.

"Tithonos." I take pride in not telling one person, not a single soul, my real name in over five years.

I had said the strange name easily and quickly enough for him to be convinced, apparently, as he made no comment. Instead, his black eyes bored into my blue ones, without blinking, just staring.

When I felt like twitching under his scrutinizing gaze, he gave up, and reclined back into his chair.

"I'm going to tell you something you already know." He said.

I hesitated "...Ok."

"It appears you have the mark of the Darkside on you."

What could a man say to that? "...You know what I do for a living, right?"

"It's why I called you."

"So how about you give me the contract, and let me get on with it?" I said, almost impatiently.

"No."

"No?"

"No." He smiled at the annoyance clearly etched into my, if I may say so, handsome features. He continued: "Instead, I want to offer you something potentially more rewarding than a simple contract." which is hard, since assassination pays so damn well.

He was silent. "Well?" I prodded.

"I want to give you a book, a dangerous book, and the knowledge that comes with it." The guy was obviously a crackpot. "Of course, I will help you understand it."

"A book?"

"A book."

"...What book?" He smiled at my expense, and I nearly got off my chair and left in anger.

He reached behind him and to another table, grabbed a black tome, and clumped it onto our table, unnecessarily forceful. It was untitled on the front and back cover; pure black.

"Open the front cover and read its title." he demanded.

I obeyed, and in spite of higher reasoning, apprehensively pulled the book to me. The front cover slammed onto the table top with impossible force, leaving only the pure ink of the title, and my eyes to read the galactic basic letters that formed it.

I read it out loud: "The Philosophy of the Sith & The Application of the Dark Side."

Silence crept into the room and copulated with the darkness, forming nausea in my stomach. My head was probably buzzing with thoughts, but I transcended my mind, and noticed them not.

"Uh..." I tried. I cleared my throat noise fully, hoping to break the marriage of silence and darkness, with the final aim of dispelling the dread in my stomach. It didn't work.

I looked to my, well, to the man sitting next to me, whatever his title had become. "So, you're a... Sith?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Stop that! Right now!" I slammed the table with the palms of my hands and took to my feet, making the chair I'd sat on catapult backwards with my ferocity. He seemed to have expected it though, as he only chuckled lightly at my outburst.

"I'm not a Sith, friend; the Sith were weak minded fools who fell to the dark side."

He seemed to like me confused, perhaps I look better that way. "Are you quite sure you picked up the right book?"

"There was only one on the table."

"Kindly explain yourself." I picked the chair up from its fallen position, and sat back down.

"The Sith fell to the dark side. They fell."

"- you've said that-"

"-Don't interrupt me. They plunged into the very deepest darkest depths to gain their power the quickest way, and they were destroyed because of it. I'm using the dark side to gain power, using myself to gain power. I'm keeping myself sane with a firm grip of logic, and what people loosely associate with morality."

I waited a few seconds to make sure he was finished. "So what you're saying is, you're using the dark side but not falling to it?"

"Yes." his thin faced features lit up with his first 'yes' of the day. "I want you to take this book with you, to wherever you stay, and study it. Come back in exactly a week, exactly the same time. Ask the 'tender, state my name, and he'll give you a few thousand credits for living expenses." Just like that! "If you find it distressing, burn the book and forget about me, don't bother coming next week."

He leaned forward, and his serious face got melodramatically serious. "But before you leave. I want you to swear an oath, on your very honour and dignity. Do not go near any Jedi with this book. Do you swear?"

"I swear."


End file.
